It's More Fun?
by Mad Writer in Manila
Summary: Just because it's raining, storming really, it does not mean we can't have some fun. Let's use our imaginations a little. After all, isn't it supposed to be more fun in the Philippines? Warning: This is an entry for the DA contest, "Something Filipino", and will feature a Philippines OC. Reviews are much appreciated.


**Author's Notes: This is my entry for FilipinoHetalians's contest, "Something Filipino". Be warned that it will heavily feature my Philippines OC.**

* * *

The weather had been great when they had left that morning.

It had been overcast, but the clouds were not forebodingly dark, Philippines had noted, pleasant, if not perfect. He had already checked with PAGASA. No storms were expected to arrive in Manila anytime soon, so he had decided to seize the opportunity and loaded everybody into his Tamaraw FX for a little sight-seeing in Intramuros.

It was around 12:00 nn, after they had left Casa Manila Museum to find somewhere to eat, when it started to rain, just a light drizzle that painted little streaks of water on the glass panels. They could wait it out. By the time they finished their lunch at Mang Inasal, it probably wouldn't be raining anymore, he told himself. The weather was perfect, he mentally repeated to himself, absolutely perfect. It just had to be.

"Philippines?" he heard Seychelles say to him.

He quickly tore his eyes away from the rain and glass. "Hm?"

"You're not eating," she pointed out to him.

He looked down at the plate of half-eaten pork sisig in front of him and smiled sheepishly at her. "I was thinking," he said with a chuckle to cover up his worry before going back to his meal.

"Hey, can I try some of that?" Seychelles asked him, her fork already hovering at the edge of his plate. "Just a little."

"Okay."

He nudged his plate towards her and watched as she scooped some of the sisig with her fork and held his gaze as she brought it to her mouth as if to say that she would harm him bodily if it was one of those dishes that the Western nations liked to tell horror stories about and he was just sitting there and letting her taste it.

"It's good!" she said, punctuating it with a hum of approval.

"Really?" he asked, equally ecstatic upon discovering that Seychelles liked his food. "You don't find it weird or... horrible?"

"Horrible? What are you talking about? This is delicious!" She was already helping herself to more of his sisig, but he didn't protest.

"Weren't you raised by France?" he asked, still somewhat not believing that she actually liked it.

"Yes. What about France?" She was looking at him with humour, obviously amused by his overly-enthusiastic reaction.

"I remember he said something about my food back in 1769," he replied, cupping his chin with his hand as he searched through the centuries of memories for what it was that France had said. "He called it bland and some other things, too." He paused for a while, remembering one of those "other things" that France had said about his food. "And he complained that the beef was like eating a mouthful of straw."

"France is a picky eater," Seychelles said dismissively as she absently transferred some more of his sisig to her own plate. "Besides, I was raised by England too."

Philippines looked down at the plate that Seychelles had pushed back towards him, his smile faltering just a little, unsure of what she had meant by that statement.

"You're supposed to take that as a compliment," she offered helpfully.

The smile returned to Philippines's face. "I'm glad you liked it."

"They like it too, you know," she said, motioning towards the others further down the wooden table.

Beside him, Sealand was happily digging into his leche flan dessert, animatedly talking about how England would probably deliver the sermon of the century if he caught him eating like this, while Wy gave him her own version of that sermon about talking with his mouth full, her own leche flan halfway gone in front of her, Seborga having taken some of it while she wasn't looking. They were loud enough that he barely heard Kugelmugel muttering about how his halo-halo was art as he made a snowman out of the shaved ice and carved a face into it with his spoon. Even Iceland, at the very head of the table, seemed to be content with his paa.

"Well, since you really liked my sisig," Philippines said with a mischievous smile. "You should know that it's made from pig jowls and livers."

Seychelles looked wide-eyed at him, her fork hovering in the air, halfway between her plate and her mouth. Then, she shrugged and put the fork in her mouth anyway. "Still good," she said, savouring the taste.

Philippines's smile widened, but it dropped when he glanced back at the window. The rain had gotten much stronger, covering the glass with a steady cascade that made it almost impossible to see outside.

He shot up from his chair, surprising the others. "Uh... We need to go home now," he told them.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Philippines?" Wy asked him, her lecture forgotten for the moment.

Philippines glanced at the windows again and then back at Wy. "I think there might be a storm," he said. "We have to go before it starts flooding."

"Flooding?" Sealand asked.

That was all it took to get them all eager to go back to his house.

As he herded them back into his Tamaraw FX, he noted the dark shade of grey the sky had become and how the strong gusts of wind sent sprays of water into his face.

* * *

"The water's getting higher!" Sealand yelled from the backseat, his feet raised onto the chair to keep them dry.

"I know, Sealand," Philippines replied. His own feet were soaked and the water was freezing and he was tempted to tuck his feet into the backs of his knees to warm them; it wasn't like he needed to keep his foot on the gas pedal, since the traffic hadn't moved for a long while, but that would have been a bad example for the micronations. "Just wait a little longer."

"Philippines." Seychelles put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her and saw her frowning at him.

"I don't think the traffic will start moving anytime soon."

He knew that, too. By the look of it, they would be stuck there until tomorrow, at the least, if they were to wait it out.

With a sigh, he looked back at the others. "We'll have to walk back."

"Walk? Through this?" Wy asked, looking outside the window at the floodwater that was over a foot deep by now.

"We have no choice right now," Philippines said. "We'll be stuck here until morning if we don't."

Then, he kicked off his shoes and crawled over the top of the driver's seat and middle row into the very back of the FX. He rummaged through the mess he kept under the seats and prayed that he hadn't left what he needed at home.

"Here," he said, when his fingers found dried leaves.

"A wig?" Wy asked when he put the vakul on her head.

Truthfully, it did look like an oversized wig made from dried grass attached to a mat and its almost comical appearance was enough to make the other micronations laugh, lifting the dreary mood inside the car just a little.

"It's a vakul," Philippines explained, adjusting so it fit perfectly over Wy's head. "It's what the Ivatan group of my islands use to keep the rain away, like a raincoat."

"I want one, too!" Sealand said, already grabbing for Wy's head.

Philippines chuckled. "A vakul is for a woman," he said to the quickly reddening Sealand. "You mean you want a talugong; that's what men use." He reached beneath the seats again and produced a talugong that looked almost exactly like the vakul on Wy's head. "Here you go," he said, placing it on top of the blond micronation's head.

"Me! I want a talugong!" Seborga said, pushing himself towards Philippines.

"Sorry, I only have one," Philippines explained after rummaging under the seats a little. "But I do have a salakot."

Seborga quickly took the conical straw hat from him and affixed it on his head.

"And another for Kugelmugel." Philippines placed the remaining salakot on the white-haired micronation's head and adjusted the strap. "We'll have to use umbrellas," he then said to Seychelles and Iceland, passing out umbrellas to the two. "Let's go."

Just as Philippines opened the rear door, a strong gust of wind blew it right back at his face, tightly shut.

"We'll take this door," he mumbled, crawling over the seats and reaching for the side door.

The water was murky and extremely cold against his legs when he jumped in and his bare feet seemed to disappear into its darkness. He had misjudged the depth of the water and nearly fell over face first into the flooded street, but he caught himself against the car door. A strong current slammed against the sides of his legs and the wind threatened to pull him with it when he opened his umbrella, making him doubt the wisdom of his decision; this, he was used to, but he did not want to subject his guests to any more danger than was absolutely necessary.

He smiled at the other nations despite his worry. "Come on," he said to them. "It's safe."

Seychelles was the first to get out of the car after him, uncomplaining despite standing knee deep in floodwater, an occurrence that was certainly not commonplace in her own country, and was quickly followed by the stoic Iceland and then apprehensive Seborga.

When it came to be Wy's turn to jump into the water, she misjudged the depth, just as Philippines had, but was not so lucky to catch the side of the door for support. The water swallowed her eagerly and would have swept her away scraping against the rough asphalt of the street, if Iceland had not grabbed hold of her and brought her up to his shoulders.

"Can you hold this for me?" Iceland asked her as he handed up the umbrella.

Wy opened the umbrella and held it over his head, shivering and tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't like this at all," she complained with a sob. "I want to go home."

"We'll be there in a while," Philippines reassured her as he heaved Kugelmugel onto his shoulders, the only wise thing he could think to do at the moment.

"No!" Wy cried. "I want to go home to Australia!"

Philippines bit his lip in worry. If he could bring all of them to NAIA right now, he would, but all flights would have been cancelled if the storm had gotten this bad.

"It's not the time to cry, Wy." It was Seychelles who said it. "You want to be a nation one day, right?"

Wy nodded feebly.

"Well," Seychelles continued reassuringly. "If you become a nation, you would have to be tough. Small things like this can't make you cry. Can you be tough for us today? Just for practice?"

"I'll try," Wy promised.

"That's a tough micronation!" Seychelles said proudly, beaming with a smile.

Philippines smiled too.

"Seborga, can you carry Sealand?" he asked the Italian micronation. "We have to get going now."

* * *

The umbrella had long become useless against the rain which blew at an angle directly into their faces and against their bodies and they were all soaking wet anyway, the floodwater now as high as the bottom of his ribs. He had folded his umbrella and used the tip to scan the street below him for potholes and bits of debris that could injure his feet.

"Watch your step," he said as his umbrella hit against stone. "There's stairs right here. We're going up so the water's going to get a little shallower."

There were groans of relief behind him as he ascended the stairs and the water level dropped to about midway up his thighs.

In the distance, he saw a silver form painted with brightly-coloured images from both pop culture and religion and it almost seemed like it had been sent by God.

With one arm, he waved the umbrella around to hail the jeepney, standing on tiptoe to be seen, while the other steadied Kugelmugel on his shoulders. "Para po!"

The jeepney stopped in front of him and he ran around to the driver's side.

"I know it's not your normal route, Manong, but can you take us directly to my house?" he pleaded in Filipino.

"You look kind of familiar," the driver said, not answering his question.

Philippines smiled and did the "pogi pose", the thumb and index fingers of his right hand forming a check or a sideways L under his chin.

"You're 'Pinas!" the driver exclaimed. "Opo, sir! Get right in."

"Okay, everyone get in," Philippines said as he herded everybody into the jeepney.

The streets were hardly deserted, with many people outside, observing the water while having merienda or drinking some beer, while the children waded and splashed each other in the flood, but there were hardly any cars and the driver drove fast, honking his horn to signal people to get out of the way. In no time at all, they were at Philippines's flooded doorstep and everybody breathed a sigh of relief.

"Leave your shoes at the door!" Philippines yelled after the micronations as he pulled out 500 pesos from his wallet. "Here," he said to the driver. "Keep the change, please."

"Salamat, sir!" the driver said gratefully. "Please stay safe."

As the driver continued on his way, Philippines turned to go inside and sighed when he saw the shoes scattered at the front door and stooped to pick them up to place them on the shoe rack.

Everybody was already in the living room, dripping puddles all over his clean tile floor and on his sofa.

"I'll go get the towels," he said. "And some fresh clothes," he quickly added when he passed Seychelles and saw how her dress was clinging to her body.

He returned to the living room with towels, shorts and pyjamas, camisas de chino, malongs, and banigs for everyone.

"You know where the bathrooms are and there's a closet there by the stairs if you want to change there," he said. He himself had already changed into dryer clothes and contentedly wrapped himself up in a warm malong and plopped down on the sofa.

There was no electricity, he quickly realized when he tried to turn on the television and watch some news. With a groan, he went into the kitchen to go looking for the candles. There were only a few left, he also realized, and he would have to go buy some more if they were to last the night with some form of illumination. He lit one and set it in an empty peanut butter jar on the counter and took another to the living room, unlit for later.

"What's this supposed to be?" Sealand asked him as soon as he entered the living room. "A tube of cloth?" The micronation held up one end of a malong while Wy held up the other.

"That's a malong," Philippines said. "You wear it like this." Quickly, he grabbed the end of the malong Wy was holding, pulled it over Sealand's head and down to his armpits and folded and knotted it in the back.

"You put me in dress!" Sealand protested, struggling to reach the knot at his back, but his arms refused to bend that way.

"It suits you," Wy said, giggling into her hand. "Can I wear it too?"

"It's pretty," Kugelmugel agreed, taking the end of Sealand's "dress" and rubbing the cloth against his cheek. "The pattern is so intricate and the cloth is so warm and soft."

Philippines nodded in agreement as he also made Wy a dress.

"This one was made in Lanao del Sur," he said. "And that one that Sealand is wearing is a T'boli cloth. I have some T'nalak upstairs if you want to see it and some colourful banig as well." He pointed to the one they had been standing on which was woven with brightly-coloured patterns reminiscent of crabs and other marine life. "This one was made by the Badjao of Mindanao. Pretty, right?"

Sealand angrily pulled away the cloth and sent Kugelmugel sprawling face first onto the woven mat, but the Austrian micronation did not complain and, instead, traced the patterns of the banig with his fingertips contentedly.

"So pretty..." he said softly.

"It's pretty and warm," Sealand conceded, referring to his malong. "But I'm not wearing it like this!"

"Okay," Philippines said and unknotted the back of the malong, only to pull it up Sealand's head and fold it into a turban.

"You know," Sealand said. "I kind of like it this way. It makes me feel like a... what did you call it?"

"Sultan?" Philippines hazarded a guess.

"Yes, like a sultan!" Sealand declared. "What do you call a sultan's wife?"

"That would be a sultana," Philippines answered. "But, in Sulu, you would call her a panguian."

"Well, a sultan needs a panguian, then," Sealand said and looked around the room and Wy blushed. "Seychelles!" the sea fort said, earning him a punch on the shoulder from Wy. Sealand ignored it and grabbed her and Kugelmugel by the hands and dragged them with him. "C'mon, let's go play. Seborga, you be the bad guy."

Philippines smiled, because, despite the storm, the micronations were still having fun.

"Philippines," Seychelles said, coming out from the kitchen, her malong wrapped around her body like Wy's. "You have no more food."

"We still have lots rice," Philippines said. "It's in the dispenser by the door. And I have enough food to make some sinigang for dinner."

"But it's not going to last until tomorrow morning," Seychelles said worriedly. "And we don't know when this storm is going to end and when the flood is going to go down."

"I still have some kakanin in the refrigerator," Philippines said. "We can let them eat those for now, while we go out to see if we can still buy something from the supermarket. I need to go buy more candles anyway." He took out the boxes of puto, bibingka and suman and took them to the living room. "But we have to hurry before everything runs out. I'm sure everybody would be there to stock up on supplies."

"Okay," Seychelles said as she followed him.

Philippines put the boxes on the coffee table and the micronations and Iceland immediately went to open it.

"What is this?" Seborga asked, inspecting a puto, his mouth full with another puto. "It's almost like the rice cakes that Mr. Japan used to bring over when he visited my fratello Veneziano. It's really good."

"It's puto," Philippines answered.

"Putto?" Seborga asked with a snicker.

"Hindi, puto! Rice cake!" Philippines quickly corrected, somewhat flustered because he knew the double meaning of "putto" in Italian and he was sure that Seborga wouldn't snicker if he thought it was the synonym for tiny, winged angels.

"I'm only teasing, Mr. Philippines," Seborga said with a chuckle. "No need to get mad."

"Well, Seychelles and I need to go out for a while to buy some supplies," Philippines said, trying to appear a little calmer and changing the conversation. "I need you to behave."

"Okay!" the micronations chorused.

Despite that, Philippines was still not reassured that they would behave themselves while he was gone. He looked nervously at the life-sized Weapons of Moroland display that he kept on his living room wall, all of them actually weapons that he had collected over the years. It was too high for Sealand, Wy and Kugelmugel to reach, but Seborga could very easily take one weapon down for them. Then, there were the other weapons he kept displayed all over the walls in his house and the giant wooden spoon and fork in the dining room. The attic was also full of various artefacts that he had collected from his pre-colonial years to the present time. In short, his house was essentially an armoury that he did not trust four bored micronations not to mess around in.

"Um, Iceland, could I talk to you for a while," he asked the Nordic nation and drawing him aside to the kitchen.

"You want me to watch them," Iceland correctly guessed.

"Salamat!" Philippines exclaimed. "You know how dangerous this house could be and, since you're the only other nation here, I trust you to keep them in line. I don't want to come back to find that one micronation had already declared war on another one."

"Well, I'll make sure to keep them all safe," Iceland said, blanching a little as if remembering something. "I know how it is to deal with four nations who don't know when to be serious."

"Salamat!" Philippines repeated.

"Philippines, let's go!" Seychelles said. "Before it gets too dark or before everything runs out like you said."

"Okay," Philippines said, making his way to the doorway where Seychelles was waiting with a planggana. "What's that for?" he asked, pointing to it.

"I thought that this would be useful," Seychelles answered brightly.

* * *

Philippines and Seychelles exited the supermarket laughing between them despite the strong rain. In the planggana that they carried between them, they had a pack of plain candles, two matchbooks, several canned goods, a bar of cacao, a plastic of tuyo, and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol and several bandages. All in all, it had been a good shopping trip.

"I still can't believe they won't give up anything for their own nation!" Seychelles chuckled as they waded through the chest-high flood, the planggana floating between them covered with a sheet of plastic. "See? I told you that this would be useful."

Philippines laughed. "I do see," he said. "They're just like that," he said regarding his citizens. "Their drive for survival is just that strong."

"But not even for their own nation?" Seychelles asked. "That woman was ready to fight you over a can of sardines."

"They're usually very nice," Philippines assured her. "It's just like this every time it storms. You get used to it."

"They are nice," Seychelles said. "And they smile a lot too."

Philippines smiled as if to affirm her point. "What can I say? It's more fun in the Philippines," he said with a shrug.

Seychelles laughed. "That's not yet proven," she said. "I can say that it's more fun in Seychelles if I wanted to and it would be true."

"Is that a bet?" Philippines challenged playfully.

Before Seychelles could make a reply, the current slammed into the two of them and carried their planggana away. Philippines was quick to catch it and pull it towards himself with much difficulty.

"I think we might need to hurry a little," he said, grabbing Seychelles's hand. "It's getting really dark and there's no electricity so there won't be any streetlights."

With a nod, Seychelles followed as he led the way, tightly clutching onto his hand as they struggled against the current.

They managed for a while, but the current soon got to be too strong and the water had become uncomfortably high, almost to his shoulders now. Standing almost on the tips of his toes to add just a few inches to his height and pushing forward with all the strength in his tired body, he soon found himself hurtling backwards and slamming against Seychelles and the two of them were carried back a few metres before she managed to grab onto a streetlamp and then his arm. Their planggana shot past almost too quickly for Philippines to grab it with his feet and pull it towards himself.

"We can't go on from here," Seychelles said, her soaked hair dishevelled and clinging to her face. "The current is too strong."

"We can wait it out," Philippines said. His only consolation now was the knowledge that his house was built on a high foundation and he knew the others were safe. "But we'll have to find somewhere higher or we'll get hypothermia in this cold water."

"There!" Seychelles pointed to a car parked by where the sidewalk should be.

With much struggle and accidentally swallowing water, the two of them managed to get themselves on top of the car, back to back and with their feet pulled close to their bodies. For a while, they just sat there without talking, shivering in the cold, until it got dark.

"I'm sorry..." Philippines said, breaking the silence, his teeth chattering as he spoke. "I'm sure this wasn't what you expected out of this vacation." He stopped for a while because his teeth chattered too much for him to talk. "But, it's still exciting and that's what's important, right?" he added once he could talk again.

He forced himself to smile, despite his shivering, making a strange expression that seemed more miserable than happy and Seychelles could only burst out laughing at such a silly face.

"That's what I like about you!" she laughed, her teeth also chattering. "You're always smiling and making the best of everything even when things are at their worst."

"After a few thousand years, you learn to live with things like this," he said, smiling even more. "But I still wish that I could have brought everybody somewhere nice."

"Well, we've got nothing to do right now," she said, sitting more comfortably. "Tell me about the places we could have gone to."

Philippines smiled to himself as he delved into his memories of beautiful places, blue crystalline seas and lush green forests, the mouth-watering aroma of food and the feel of warm sand burning the soles of his feet, the bustling noise of the city and the peaceful quiet of the province.

"This sounds silly, but I've always wanted to bring you to Binondo," he confessed sheepishly.

"Binondo? That's Chinatown, right?" Seychelles asked.

"Yes, and it's the oldest Chinatown in the world," Philippines said, just bursting with pride, making Seychelles roll her eyes at him.

"You always have to boast about something don't you," she teased.

"I do," he replied with a chuckle. "Because I have lots of things to boast about."

Seychelles playfully punched him in the arm. "But what's there to see in Binondo, anyway?"

"For one thing, it's a good warm up for the rest of the places we're going to," he replied. "And it's full of culture and good food."

"It's always the food..." Seychelles said in an exaggerated manner, rolling her eyes again.

"Hey, you like the food too," Philippines said. "We could eat at Royal Garden. They serve authentic Chinese cuisine there."

"Wait, wait," Seychelles interrupted him. "Why Chinese food? Why not Filipino food?"

"We'll eat Filipino food later," he said. "The Mid-Autumn festival is coming up, so you have to experience that, and you simply have to try hopia. Besides, I have to acknowledge all parts of my heritage, right?"

"I guess so..."

"And then we can visit Ongpin Street and go shopping," he continued. "Have you ever tried shopping for dried snake and bird's nest?"

Seychelles shook her head, smiling, and he wasn't sure if she liked the idea or she was just smiling with amusement.

"Well, we'll do that when we get there," he said. "Then we can take a kalesa ride and go sightseeing. There's Binondo Church that we could visit. It's one of the oldest places of Christian Worship in the country and that's where you can find Our Lady of China. Then, we could go to Kuang Kong, the Buddhist temple, and you could have your fortune told. Yes and no questions only, though."

"Okay," Seychelles laughed. "What else?"

"We could go to Banawe," Philippines offered. "I'm sure you know what we're going to see. It's only the single most well-known monolithic structure in my country."

"Banaue Rice Terraces, right?" she said.

"Actually, they're now called payyo," he corrected. "I'm trying to be post-colonial, so we're calling it by its indigenous name now." He smiled. "But the point is, we're going to go see it anyway. Can you imagine it now? We're standing on the mountainside and, for as far as you can see, there are more mountains all carved like stairs, covered in green vegetation, and water trickling down the faces of the stone."

Seychelles closed her eyes and she could picture the panoramic view, a breath-taking sight of endless terraces set against the pale blue and grey of a cloudy sky.

"If we get there early, you could still see the mist rolling against the tops of the mountains and the air is fresh and cool," Philippines added.

The cold gale that blew against them suddenly felt like it could have been a refreshing mountain breeze and Seychelles pictured the mist touching the mountaintops, making it look as if the peaks were brushing against the sky.

"Then, we could go to Boracay," Philippines said almost dreamily. "Yes, somewhere quiet in Boracay where there aren't many tourists yet, a place hidden away. The sand is so fine and white that it looks and feels like sugar beneath your feet. We could swim in the morning and go eat somewhere good at night. The food in Boracay is very good, you know."

Seychelles ignored his comment about food for a moment, imagining herself walking down the length of the beach at dawn, her hand clasped in someone else's, their footprints side by side in the white, powdery sand that was like refined sugar.

"Yes, we could go swimming," Philippines said with a contented sigh, bringing her out of her fantasy.

She slapped him in the shoulder. "Philippines, are you imagining me in a bikini?" she asked suspiciously.

"No, I was imagining taking the micronations scuba diving and sailing," he replied, laughing while rubbing his shoulder. "But I'm sure Iceland wouldn't mind seeing you wear one. The two of you could take a romantic stroll along the beach. I'll keep the micronations distracted."

Seychelles blushed intensely when he correctly guessed her fantasy and slapped him in the shoulder again. "Shut up!"

Philippines laughed and ignored her blows. "We could visit Palawan," he continued. "The wildlife there is so diverse. You would love to the Puerto Princesa Subterranean River National Park. We'll take a boat and flashlights because it's so dark. The water would be freezing cold, but I'm sure you've had enough of that right now," he added as an aside, eliciting giggles from Seychelles. "The interior of the cave system would be lined with limestone and karst stalactites and stalagmites and speleothems of different kinds."

Seychelles imagined it. They were in a boat approaching the mouth of the cave and she could already see the stalactites hanging from its ceiling like giant teeth. There were long-tailed macaques hanging from the branches overhanging the river while blue-naped parrots flew by and, on the shore, she could see monitor lizards basking in the sun.

"The stalactites hang from the ceilings like chandeliers," Philippines said. "Some of them look like teeth, some of them look like bells and some of them look like flowers. There are small waterfalls trickling along walls of the cave. Can you see it?"

She could see it perfectly clear. They were inside and she shined her flashlight all around her at the spectacular rock formations in red and orange and yellow and grey and almost white. She peered over the side of the boat and saw that the water that had once been blue outside had turned a dark, mysterious green.

"It's kind of scary," she said. "But the hauntingly beautiful kind of scary."

"Now, imagine we're in Negros Oriental," Philippines said. "We're in Canlaon City. We can hike up Mt. Kanlaon. It's an active volcano, so wouldn't that be a thrill? It killed a Briton and two Filipinos in 1996 when it erupted without warning."

"You like volcanoes a little too much," Seychelles said with a sigh. "Just last week, you took us to Taal Volcano, not that I didn't like it. I'm pretty sure it's the only island within a lake within a volcano within a lake that I would ever see. Then, after that, you took us to see Mayon Volcano and Mt. Pinatubo. Sometimes, I just don't understand why you find so much joy when you hike up volcanoes."

"I am part of the Pacific Ring of Fire," Philippines replied. "Of course, I like volcanoes and, you have to admit, I have some pretty impressive volcanoes, right?"

Seychelles rolled her eyes behind her eyelids, although she knew that Philippines wouldn't be able to see it.

"Well, Mayon Volcano had the most perfectly conical slopes I had ever seen and Mt. Pinatubo caused the second biggest volcanic eruption of the 20th Century and it was able to lower temperatures in the Northern Hemisphere for a year after that," she conceded with just a bit of awe. "That was pretty impressive."

"But not as impressive as Eyjafjallajökull?" Philippines teased.

Seychelles punched him in the arm. "Shut up!"

"Okay," he laughed. "So, we're in Kanlaon. There are several hot springs found there. We could bathe at Mambukal Hot Springs if you like or we could hike towards Padudusan Falls if you want more of an adrenaline rush. It's a natural water slide, you know. How amazing is that?"

"Wait," Seychelles said. "A natural water slide? How does that look like?"

"Well, the waterfall is not so steep," Philippines said. "The rocks on either side form a natural slide and the strong water pushes you down into the river below. Can you imagine it?"

Seychelles imagined the micronations sliding down the waterfall, one after the other, the white water carrying them down into the cool river where she was waiting with open arms to catch them.

"Then, at night, we should return to Canlaon City," Philippines said. "There is a balete tree there that is 1,328-years-old. I can still remember when it used to be so small, just a small balete clinging to another tree, that I barely noticed it at all, but it has become so massive now that it would take 42 men just to encircle its trunk and the cavity at its centre had become the home of many birds, bats and lizards over the centuries. At night, fireflies light it up like a Christmas tree all year round."

Seychelles imagined herself standing beneath the lofty branches of the ancient tree, patches of the night sky glittering with stars just barely visible through the leaves, but she might as well have been looking at the night sky because of the thousands of fireflies that lit it up and flitted all around. She wanted to hold out her arms like a child and try to catch one, as if being able to catch a firefly was like catching a star.

"It's beautiful!" she said.

"But don't point," Philippines warned her. "You might end up offending a powerful spirit if you do and I don't want you being cursed or else we wouldn't be able to go to any of the other places we have planned. Balete trees are the home of many spirits that you might not be able to see, you know."

"I know. You told me that when we passed through Balete Drive," she replied, deciding to humour him for now. "It wasn't that scary. You're as crazy as England is, sometimes."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Philippines laughed, echoing her from earlier. "But now we're in Bohol. That's where the Chocolate Hills are. They're not actually hills but limestone mounds covered with grass and they're almost perfectly symmetrical in shape."

"You seem to have an obsession with symmetry," Seychelles pointed out.

"Not really," Philippines said. "I've just been blessed with such perfectly symmetrical land formations."

"Stop boasting and continue telling me about Bohol," Seychelles said, elbowing him sharply.

"Well, it's the rainy season now, so the Chocolate Hills would be green, but, if you had been here in the dry season, they would have been brown, like chocolate," he said. "Bohol is the home of the endemic Philippine tarsier, the smallest primate in the world."

"No, that would be the pygmy marmoset from the Amazon basin," Seychelles corrected him. "But the tarsier is still the second smallest and very cute and you still have the smallest fish, Pandaka pygmaea."

Philippines waved his hand dismissively. "Well, we could see the tarsiers, but you would have to be very careful not to disturb them, because they get stressed easily and commit suicide."

"You'll have to tell the micronations that," Seychelles said.

"Then, when we're done, we can walk along Alona Beach on Panglao Island," Philippines continued. "The sand there is also white like in Boracay and the water is crystal clear and, the best part is, there are plenty of food stalls right by the beach. We'll buy crab there. The crabs in Panglao are fat and juicy and are good to eat. Then, we could buy some fish and meat and have ihaw-ihaw on the beach. Can you imagine it?"

Seychelles imagined them all sitting around the beach while Philippines cooked on a portable grill. The food smelled wonderful mixed with the scent of charcoal and sea air and it somehow reminded her a little of home. Further off, she could see the ocean, a light crystalline blue, beckoning her to go swimming, but she could not tear herself away from the scent of their beachside picnic.

"Or we could go to the Bee Farm," Philippines said. "The food there is all organic. They have homegrown salads and edible flowers and good honey and ice cream. You'll love it after you have to spend a few days eating only canned goods because of this flood."

"Don't remind me..." Seychelles said, her eyes still closed. "Just tell me where else we would go."

"We'll go to Cebu," Philippines said. "Where to start? There are so many great things about Cebu that I could barely think of where we should go. I think we should just go everywhere! There's the Taoist Temple, Basilica Minore del Santo Niño, Magellan's Cross, Fort San Pedro, Cebu Heritage Monument, Lapu-Lapu Shrine, Mantalongon... The list just goes on forever, I think. Then, there's Litsong Cebu which you must try at least once every time you go to Cebu."

"So where are we going, anyway?" Seychelles asked, getting a little impatient with his rambling.

"Well, we definitely need to go scuba diving," Philippines answered. "We can go to Moalboal where there are huge schools of sardines and beautiful coral, but I would really like to bring you to Malapascua. The biodiversity of macro-sea life there is simply amazing, especially at the Monad Shoal. We can go diving in the early morning and we'll be able to see thresher sharks, eagle rays and devil rays. If we're lucky, we'll get to see hammerheads and manta rays, too."

"Do you actively try to put yourself in dangerous situations and does it give you some form of enjoyment?" Seychelles asked him while laughing. "Or do you just enjoy terrifying us that much?"

"Ssh..." Philippines said. "Just imagine what it would be like."

When Seychelles did imagine it, it was beautiful. The water was so clear as she floated above the colourful coral beneath. Around her were thresher sharks swimming around and hunting for fish, but not really minding her. There was something strangely breath-taking about being able to swim so close to such predators, but she should have been used to it by now, because she lived on a chain of islands too. A manta ray's wing brushed against her foot and she turned to follow it through the waters, riding the stream that it left in its wake.

"It's nice," she said.

"You can walk on the beach at sunset," Philippines said. "You can take that romantic stroll with Iceland if you haven't already taken it with him in Boracay. I'll keep the micronations busy."

"Stop trying to play matchmaker!" Seychelles told him, but she still pictured herself and Iceland walking along the beach, the sky a red and violet backdrop behind them, the secluded atmosphere almost lazy.

"Then, we'll go to Jumalon Butterfly Sanctuary in Cebu City," Philippines said, changing the scenery. "It's the oldest butterfly sanctuary and museum in my country and was founded by the lepidopterist, Julian Jumalon. It's home to some 50 species of butterflies and houses an extensive collection of mounted specimens. Jumalon was also an artist and he made mosaics from the wings of damaged butterfly specimens which you could see at the museum."

"Where to next?" Seychelles asked, trying to hold on to the image at Malapascua Island.

"We've been to Luzon and we've been to Visayas," Philippines replied. "It's time we head to Mindanao. There's a river in Surigao del Sur which people like to call enchanted. It's real name is actually Hinatuan River, but most know it as Enchanted River because it seems to flow from nowhere. The water is so clear and blue that you could see the bottom of the river like it had been made of glass. The funny thing is, nobody has actually been able to reach the bottom of the river which is inside a cave. There are fish there too, but nobody has ever caught a fish there."

From Malapascua, Seychelles was transported to Hinatuan. She was standing by the side of the river and the water was so clear and crystalline like glass that she could see all the way down into the bottom. With a cry of delight, she jumped into the cool water and swam down as far as she could go. She could see fish darting around her in the clear water and a pawikan swam by lazily. Looking into the mouth of the cave, she felt an overpowering desire to swim into its depths to discover its secrets and enchantments.

"I bet that I could swim all the way to the bottom," she told Philippines.

"Weh, really?" Philippines asked in disbelief. "The river is the home of a myriad of spirits who would very gladly take your life for even suggesting that."

"You really are crazy," Seychelles said. "I think you're just making that up to attract tourists."

"It's true!" he argued. "The river really is enchanted!"

Seychelles couldn't help but feel a little giddy inside; there was something extremely thrilling about being able to discover something supernatural lurking at the bottom of the river. "But I can still swim to the bottom."

"How about at Tinago Falls? It's in Lanao del Norte and it's hidden deep within a ravine, so we would need to take a long, winding staircase down, but it's worth it once you see the cascading falls emptying into a deep blue basin. There's a cave behind the waterfalls where you can take a raft and listen to the water trickling down."

Suddenly, she was on a raft heading towards the foot of the majestic, curtain-like waterfalls rushing down between lush vegetation. The water pelted her head like a rain of bullets, but she only laughed and listened to her echo. She could hear the sound of the water rushing down the face of the rock from behind the waterfall.

"Nobody has ever reached the bottom of this river too and the locals say that there is a giant squid or some other freshwater monster lurking in its depths," Philippines added for spooky effect. "Every year, the river takes a life as a sacrifice."

Not heeding his advice, Seychelles dove into the blue water and swam down. She stopped, not even deep enough for the sunlight to turn pale, staring into the dark abyss beneath her and sensing some sort of monster just waiting to meet her if she went any deeper. She could picture it in her mind, colossal, primordial and powerful.

"Okay, so maybe I can't reach the bottom of that one," she conceded. "But I still bet that I can reach the bottom of Hinatuan River and you will have to pay if I do."

"No time for that, because we're going to Camiguin!" Philippines said before he could be forced to bet money. "We have Mt. Hibok-Hibok, Mt. Vulcan, Mt. Timpoong, Mt. Butay and Mt. Guisiliban, all volcanoes, there, but that's not where we're going this time, unless you want to. I'm pretty sure you're sick of waterfalls by now, but we're still visiting Katibawasan Falls which falls in a narrow vertical stream. However, our main goal is to visit the sunken cemetery."

"Sunken cemetery!?" Seychelles exclaimed.

"Yes, the cemetery of the town of Bonbon was submerged below sea level following the eruption of Mt. Vulcan," Philippines said. "From the rocky shore, all you would be able to see is a lone white cross standing in the middle of the water. Beneath that would be the ruins of the cemetery. Just imagine diving there."

Seychelles did as he said and imagined herself standing on the rocky shore at sunset, staring out at the white cross in the water, voices inexplicably calling her towards the depths. With the skill she had honed swimming around in her own seas, she dove into the water and swam with a singular mind to follow the voices. Without even realizing that she had swam so far, she found herself amidst the ruins of the cemetery, slabs of stone and bits of rubble littering the sea floor while crosses, worn and covered in algae, stood out among them. The voices called her and she found herself not able to rise to the surface to breathe, captivated by the haunting beauty of it all.

A splash of water brought her back to reality and she opened her eyes.

Philippines was in the water, the planggana beside him. "It stopped raining," he said with a smile. "And the current is not so strong anymore. We can go home now."

* * *

"We're home!"

The sight that greeted him at the doorway nearly gave Philippines a heart attack. Seborga rushed past him in the hallway dressed in the old Igorot clothes he kept in the attic while carrying a sharpened sibat in one hand and with Wy, dressed in colourful T'boli garb replete with a beaded headdress in her hair, in his other arm. Behind him, Sealand gave chase, dressed in the blue attire of the Tagalog maginoo, an ornate salakot on his head and a kris in his hands for some reason, while Kugelmugel, dressed like a warrior from Lapu-Lapu's time and carrying a panabas, followed closely after.

"Hey! Those are real weapons!" Philippines yelled after them, chasing them into the living room. "Put those down right now!"

He stopped at the entrance of the living room, too stunned to do much else. They had somehow redecorated his living room to look like some palace with a mishmash of things from various ethno-linguistic groups that they had gotten from his attic and all over the house. In the midst of it all was Iceland, dressed like the main male dancer in singkil but with the hornbill skull-adorned putong of the Ifugao kadangyan on his head and a kampilan whose handle was carved with the image of Bakunawa laid across his knees as he sat on the sofa.

"Iceland! I thought you said you'll make them behave!" Philippines yelled, finally finding his voice.

"I said I'll keep them safe," Iceland said, rising from the sofa with all the dignity of a king. "None of them are hurt right now. They're just playing."

Philippines looked at the sharpened blades that the micronations were playing around with and he felt kind of sick, but he couldn't deny that Iceland did have a point.

"I'm going to go cook dinner," he said tiredly.

Sealand stopped him before he could even reach the kitchen. "Mr. Philippines, you never told us that you used to be a warrior and a pirate!" he said. "That's so cool!"

"Ano? Pirate?" Philippines asked, bewildered. He knew where the part about him being a warrior when he was younger came from, but the part about him being a pirate came out of nowhere.

"Don't look at me," Iceland said when Philippines looked to him for an answer. "Seborga said that it was Germany who told him that you used to be a pirate at the turn of the 19th Century."

"Ah, that..." Philippines said, remembering how Germany had declared him a pirate because he did not recognize the Philippine flag. "I wasn't really a pirate..."

He saw Sealand's smile fall a little.

"But I was a slaver when I was younger," he amended, putting the smile back in Sealand's face. "I'll tell you all about it later after dinner."

"That's so cool!" he heard Sealand say as he walked into the kitchen where Seychelles was waiting.

"Slaver?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow. "That's just horrible, Philippines."

"It's true," Philippines said as he washed the rice. "The slave trade was booming in Malacca back then. Malaysia and I had a good business between the two of us."

"Well, you can tell all of us about it later," she said. "Now, let's just cook something to eat. I'm starving."

* * *

In the morning, Philippines looked outside to see that the flood had receded to about knee-level. Well, things were looking a little better today than it had been yesterday, he had to admit as he sipped his cup of salabat. He was tired from all the wading around in the floodwater the day before and the micronations had kept him up asking for stories and they would not have gone to sleep if he had not terrorized them into sleepiness with his stories of asuwang and engkanto, something that earned him an hour-long sermon from Seychelles.

He yawned and sat down by the door, just wanting to enjoy the peacefulness for a few minutes before he would have to go back to the dining room where everybody was having a breakfast of tsamporado and tuyo.

There were a lot of things he had to do today: First of all, he would have to go clean the living room. Then, he would have to contact his boss sooner or later. Weather permitting, he would probably need to go fetch his car where he left it in the middle of the street.

"Hey, Philippines," Seychelles said. "The others wanted me to tell you that they had fun despite the storm yesterday."

"That's good," he replied with a smile. He yawned again. "Maybe I'll put off cleaning the living room for a while so they could play some more... We'll be stuck with nothing to do for the next few days before everything goes back to normal."

They would need something to keep them entertained.

"Why don't you tell them what you told me while we were sitting on top of that car?" Seychelles suggested. "That certainly gave me something to look forward to. You have a way of making the best of the worst situations."

Philippines scratched the side of his head sheepishly and smiled wider. "Maybe I should."

* * *

**More Author's Notes: The other entries focused on the fun things to do and fun places to go in the Philippines, so, for the sake of uniqueness, and because I am not so well-travelled, I chose to focus on the Filipino ability to make the best of every situation, even if it is a storm with flooding up to your chest. Storms and floods and a lot of other negative things are part of being Filipino, but, as a people, we have the ability to smile, laugh at ourselves and turn a flooded street into a giant swimming pool. That does not mean that I did not put in Philippine culture and tourist spots as well. On the contrary, the story is filled with lots of things that are Philippine, from delicious food to beautiful clothes to obscure points in history to places that you might want to Google and visit for yourself.**

**Filipino Words: para po! - stop! (polite); 'Pinas - a nickname for the Philippines used by Filipinos (shortening of Pilipinas); salamat - thank you; hindi - no; planggana - basin**


End file.
